give me a break
by mearcats
Summary: Buffy is upset and stressed, and Spike wants to help. He doesn't know how, but Xander notices and decides to take the first step to making amends by helping him. S7 missing scene.


Spike steps out onto the back porch, tapping the carton to get a cigarette out. He bites back an exclamation as he almost trips over Buffy. She's sitting on the step, glaring up at him now. He puts the cigarette behind his ear and sits next to her. God knows she wouldn't appreciate the the smoke when she's trying to relax.

"Do you mind if I join you, Slayer?" He remembers other times sitting here with her, before the soul but before things got so horrifyingly messed up. Before he...he pushes the thought aside, shoves the guilt away. No place for that right now, when Buffy seems so tense and melancholic.

She shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

He turns and looks at her, really looks at her. She's still beautiful, the most beautiful woman he knows. But she's thin, her shoulders tense, and there are dark circles under her eyes. Her fingers are tight around the axe in her hands, and Spike would worry for his continued unlife if it were a stake.

Instead, he realizes how much this all has been wearing on her. Oh, not in the depressed, dangerous way of the previous two years, but she's tired. The First, the potentials, the house full of everyone she knows in this town. And god, his own issues can't be making her life any easier either.

He want to pat her back, offer her his shoulder. But he doesn't really think she'd welcome the gesture. They're fine now, okay with accidental and a few not-so-accidental touches ever since she rescued him from the First and the Bringers. It's not the same though, those little things-this would be offering himself as a support, and he doesn't think she trusts him quite enough for that yet.

He nudges her elbow with his own instead. "Wanna go kill something big, ugly, and demonic?"

* * *

The next day, Spike is in the kitchen drinking his blood when Harris joins him. The girls are all out in the backyard training, and he's been enjoying the all-too-brief quiet. Now he braces himself for Xander's needling and taunts. They're mostly devoid of any edge or hatred these days, but…

Xander surprises him, though. "What's up? You seem all pensive and un-talkative. It's not the natural order of things."

Spike snorts. "Didn't know you cared."

"Only about the world not being totally out of whack. Even in an apocalypse, a guy has to draw the line somewhere."

He pauses before replying. "Buffy's tired, she's stressed. I want to help, but I'm not sure I know how. Or even if she wants me to."

Harris stops to think ( _that'll take a while_ , the catty part of Spike's brain provides unhelpfully). "I think she probably does. Want you to, that is. Honestly, I'm pretty sure you're the only one she'd accept any help from right now."

"That's not true. You all are her friends, and I'm just...here," he protests.

"That doesn't matter, I don't think. Willow and I-well, we've been Buffy's friends for a long time. But as long as I'm being honest with the evil undead, I might as well admit that we're not as close as we used to be, any of us. And as much as I hate it, she sees something in you that she identifies with," Xander admits reluctantly.

Spike tilts his head. "So what can I do to help? I asked her to go slaying with me last night. That always used to work, but I think it made it worse."

"Well, Buffy is General Buffy these days. She does nothing but slay and lead, so doing either of those things probably isn't going to relax her, nimrod."

"So what you're saying is that making her-letting her be anyone other than the general would help more…"

"Three points for Team Vampire!"

Spike feels uncomfortable, but if wants to help Buffy, he'll swallow his pride. "Will you help me figure something out for her?"

A brief flash of amusement courses through him at that shock on Xander's face. It doesn't last long, and he shakes his head.

"Fine, yes. I'll help you. But only because this is for Buffy. And I have to make sure you don't do anything weird."

* * *

That evening, they have everything ready. Willow easily agrees to help take a group of girls out to supervise the slaying and to provide some protection for them.

Spike gives Xander a nod before going to find Buffy. He knocks on the door to her bedroom, and she opens it, dressed for an evening of hunting demons.

"What, Spike? I need to get going soon. Did you need something, or were you going to tag along?" Her tone is apathetic, and Spike recognizes it for what it is-exhaustion.

"Ah, that's the thing, pet. You don't need to go out to slay tonight. Got Red to agree to take out a few of the potentials to help kill all the baddies. Tonight all you have to do is relax."

She eyes him a little suspiciously. "And let me guess, you have some ideas about how to do that?"

He bites back a biting, sarcastic response. "Yep. And Xander helped, so you know it's nothing…"

"Nothing weird or dirty, got it. Sorry," she says sheepishly.

He shrugs and runs a hand through gelled hair. "Can't blame you for thinking it, luv." He does his best to quell the surge of self-recrimination and self-pity.

Her shoulders slump, "No, I shouldn't have assumed you'd be gross. I meant what I said about you changing."

He would blush if that were possible. Instead he just lays a hand on her arm gently and guides her down the stairs. "Your surprise is down in the basement."

Buffy gives him an arch look and mutters, "As long as it's not a flood or vampires." She stops, realizing what she just said. "Present company excluded, of course."

He smiles at that. "'M not your surprise. Not sure there's much of me left you don't know in some way or another."

"Somehow, I don't think you'll ever stop surprising me," she says with a look he can't quite interpret.

He leads her down into the darkness of the basement before going over to the little table near his cot and turning on the lamp. Its soft glow bathes the room in gentle light, enough for Buffy to see the couch and table set up for her.

The couch is from Xander's old apartment, but he and Harris have covered it in throw blankets and pillows. On one side of it sits Mr. Gordo and the on the other is a tray of food. ( _"See, now this is her favorite pig," Xander had said, pointing at the stuffed animal. Spike smiled, remembering all the times she had called him a pig, the memories not stinging as much now._ ) It's a simple meal, the best he and Xander could do on such short notice and with fairly limited experience. Buffy's eyes light up when she sees the truffles and red wine, though.

The table has a stack of books they thought she might like, an assortment of nail polishes, and some flowers that Dawn had said were her favorite. There's a CD player, too, with a bunch of the abominable stuff she calls music. Spike hopes she likes it, hopes it works and that he hasn't bollixed up another thing.

He looks over at her and sees the tears in her eyes-and the happiness. He's unprepared for her launching herself at him, but he embraces her, patting her golden head softly.

"There, there, Slayer. I hope this does for you. I'm going to go take myself upstairs now. I think Harris and I are going to have some beers and watch something manly. You just enjoy yourself, okay?"

He's turning away when she grabs hold of his hand.

"Spike? Thank you. All of you," she says.

He nods and smiles, but she hasn't let go of his hand and he feels like she's struggling to say something. So he waits.

"Um...will you join me in a little bit? I want to eat and have a few minutes to breathe, but we could share the wine. There's no way I can or, egads, should drink that all on my own," she babbles.

"Sure thing, Buffy. I could help you with your nails too, if you'd like," he teases. Spike feels something like joy rising in him, threatening to drive away all the darkness and gloom of the past months. ( _Years, centuries_ , something inside him whispers.)

Instead of taking the bait and snarking back at him, she just grins at him. "I'd like that. Come back in like an hour?"

He agrees and heads upstairs, his heart light and his hand still burning from the warmth of her touch.


End file.
